by Harold Wall
She didn't want to know: she needed to. "What did they do?"
"Dead rabbit." His voice was a monotone. "Skinned. Sick bastards."
"No. Oh god. I'm so sorry."
"Not as sorry as they'll be if I find them." He took a huge, shuddering breath. "I should go and look after my mom and sister. I'll see you tomorrow."
Their soft goodbyes went unheard.
"Let's get home," said Phi. "I don't want to be around here anymore."
"I'll get my brother to walk you back," she said. "He needs the exercise."
She'd offered before and Phi had always laughed it off. Now she gazed out into the dark, and said, "You think they'd go after me?"
"I don't know," Celia answered. "But don't risk it."
She didn't say: you're human now, Phi. You aren't faster or stronger or more powerful than them. She didn't say: they hate you, and me, all of us. I don't know why, but it doesn't matter, does it?
Sleepshorted and more rumpled than usual, Celia knocked on the door of Sunny's house. It opened onto a harangued Kurt who was holding a frying pan full of something that
looked burned and smelled annihilated. Smoke wafted out around him, accompanied by the sound of a smoke alarm. Breakfast, it appeared, was not going well.
"Is it that time already?" he said ruefully. He turned away. "Sunshine! Get your ass down here."
"Quit nagging!" came back the shout from the top of the stairs.
"It's not nagging if I'm right!" he bellowed before waving Celia in. "She'll be a minute, which I've learned means somewhere between ten and twenty minutes, because apparently
time does not work like I thought it did. Sorry about the smell. Bacon and I don't get on."
Celia edged around cardboard boxes as Sunny swept down the stairs in a soft scarlet jumper that showed a hint of cleavage, a miniskirt that was almost a nanoskirt, and knee high
boots in clinging black suede. Her hair was a slithery mass of black curls, as smoky as her eyes. She looked beautiful, feral, and dangerous.
Kurt took one aghast look and put the pan down like he was gearing up for a prolonged battle. "Do you think that's an appropriate outfit?"
Sunny's eyes narrowed. "Yes."
"Wrong. Please go and change."
"Make me."
Kurt didn't raise his voice. He didn't move. He only looked at her with a kind of pity. "No, sunshine. That was your family's way, not mine. I am asking you to do this, because I
know a little bit more than you do, and either you trust my judgment or you don't. You make your choice. I will still love you just as much, even if you make what I think is the
wrong decision."
His words cut the heart right out of her – Celia saw it, and wondered just who had told Sunny that love was conditional, before Kurt came along to pick apart the lie.
This guy could give my mom some tips, she thought, impressed.
"Maybe it's too cold for this," said Sunny cautiously. Behind Kurt, the autumn sun streamed in through the windows.
He nodded, face grave. "Blue knees are not a good look. Celia, help an old man out – any thoughts on what is a good look?"
"I'd go skinny jeans and courts," she offered. "But that outfit would be amazing for Friday."
Sunny heaved a sigh. "Fine. Give me just"
"A minute," finished Kurt as she trotted back up the stairs. "Thanks, Celia. Sunny spent the last few years in a very different culture. We're all still figuring things out." He sighed. "I
just want her to fit in."
She was beginning to wonder if Ri had been right about Nightfire, because this was not her expectation of what assassins would be like. Riose always spoke of them as if they were
figures from myth, hardly human at all. But here one was, burning bacon and dishing out fashion critique and doing what all her friends parents did worrying.
"She'll be fine," she offered. "I mean, apart from the fact she's going to get hit on a lot."
The look of horror was back. "Don't tell me that. No father wants to hear it."
"Don't worry," said Celia cheerfully. "I'll keep the creepy ones away."
He grimaced. "How about you keep them all away?"
"Nah. You need to adopt my mom's policy – keep your enemies close. If you really want to put them off, invite them round for dinner. Last time I had a boy over, my mom spent
four hours grilling him on his knowledge of safe sex. She snuck in pustules. And she made him spell gonorrhoea. At the table. He still won't look me in the eye, and I don't think it's
because he's ashamed of his spelling skills."
The corners of his mouth turned up. "I'm surprised you're telling me this."
"Please. Why should I suffer a life of celibacy alone?"
He laughed, and it wiped all the worry away. "Be careful what you wish for. The next few years are all hormones and heartache. I don't miss it."
"I'm done," announced Sunny, taking the stairs two at a time. She gave a little theatrical twirl at the bottom. "What do you think?"
"I still think that top's too low, but I know when to give in," said Kurt. "Be good. And if you can't be good, be discreet. Sure you're ready, sunshine?"
It felt like there was weight behind that mild question.
And for a moment, something very like fear flickered on Sunny's face. Then her mouth tightened and she said, "For anything."The
strangeness began before they reached school. Celia had been expecting stares, and upgraded her expectations from 'a few' to 'fighting them off with a twobyfour' when she
saw the sinuous way that Sunny walked, echoes of a tiger stalking through the jungle in her lazy, swaying hips.
And there were stares aplenty. Lewis Bates drove past and did a fullon cartoon doubletake accompanied by screeching brakes as he nearly whalloped the car in front. Nessa and
her friends sized up Sunny as competition, all giggles and elbows.
But there were other reactions, too. Sam Sheldon wandered up as he sometimes did to chat in that soft, apologetic way – but then his lips tightened, his steps faltered…and with no
warning, the werewolf turned away down a side street. When Morwenna Merrigan brushed past them, she shivered as if someone had walked over her grave then walked so fast it
was almost a jog.
The entire way, Celia kept up a running commentary on who was who and what was what.
Who and what Sunny was, she didn't comment on at all. But she could feel the tension ratcheting up with every suspicious look, every twitch in someone's face. By the time they
reached the gates, Sunny's heels cracked on the ground like a whip.
It was with some relief that she saw Finn and Riose waiting. Ri's brow furrowed a little as he saw them, but that could have meant anything. Finn, on the other hand, wore that
huge, goofy grin. "Ladies!"
Sunny paused, then gave Finn a swooping stare, eyes glittering darkly. Her tone was icy. "Boy."
His smile dimmed. "Have I done something to offend you?"
She took a deep breath. Then another. And then her face softened, just a fraction. "Not yet." A long silence. "It's not easy being...here."
Celia had the distinct feeling Sunny meant something else entirely.
"It gets easier," said Riose, quietly. "You forget what they were like."
Sunny glanced at him. "Who?"
"The Furies."
The briefest pause. "The who?" said Sunny with such blithe innocence that Celia almost believed her.
Riose was still, in that way only he could be. The silence felt dangerous and fragile, like paperthin glass shivering under pressure.
"My mistake," he said, and life flooded back into the world. "Welcome to Ryars Valley."Celia
hustled her from class to class, throwing out introductions with the reckless speed of an auctioneer. Heads kept turning, and hackles kept raising. Slowly, she began to work
out the divide. The vampire, witches and humans didn't seem to notic
e anything.
It was the shapeshifters who were really bothered by Sunny.
Jo pulled her aside before American History, a frown marring her face. "Darling, something isn't right with that girl."
"Keep your voice down," she hissed, conscious that Sunny was only a few feet away. "What do you mean?"
The wildcat shook her head, like a cat trying to dash the rain from its fur. "I don't know. It's just...there's a buzz around her. Like – like when there's a wasp indoors and you know
the damn thing's there, but you can't find it. Her power grates on me." She leaned in, coral mouth turned down. "Adrian feels it too."
Another one in the shapeshifter column. Jo's current squeeze was a foxy boy by day and a fox by night.
"Is it hurting you?" she asked, a touch concerned.
"No..." Jo paused, green eyes thoughtful. "It's just – unpleasant. And – and it's there, all the time."
"Maybe she can't help it," she suggested. "Maybe it's a spell. Or a curse."
Hands spread, Jo conceded. "I guess it could be. But until we know what it is, I'll grab lunch somewhere else."By
lunchtime, Celia could see that for all her nonchalant façade, Sunny was bothered by the reactions. So was she.
It said something about how weird it was that when Mike Stanislov bulldozed through the crowd to grab her by the elbow, she didn't do anything more painful than wrench away.
"Mike. I'm guessing you want something."
He gave her his allAmerican golden boy grin. "Thought you could introduce me to your cousin."
"She's not my cousin," she and Sunny said in unison.
He looked puzzled. "Huh. Really." Then he had the gall to lean back and look the pair of them up and down. "I mean..."
"Mike," she snapped, glad to have a problem she could solve for once, "Please tell me that you didn't just assume we're related just because we're both Indian? Because there's a
word for that."
"Uh..." Clearly he had. Which she supposed wasn't too surprising given that his limbs had his brain cells outnumbered two to one. "No. No. It's because you're both pretty."
Beside her, she heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like Sunny choking on disbelief.
Still. She couldn't be bothered to have this argument today. "Good save. Still want to be introduced? Free hint: I will introduce you as That Meathead Mike."
His slategrey eyes narrowed. "Maybe later, then."
Maybe not, he meant. They'd never really got on, but mostly because they moved in different circles. Celia watched him go, and said, "Lucky escape, Sunny."
A faint smile touched her berryred lips. "I keep hearing that."
Celia swung open her locker, studiously ignoring the words splattered across the door. She dug for her books.
"Weird..." breathed Sunny. Her fingers brushed the wordsShe
jolted back with a cry. Alarmed, Celia slammed the locker shut to catch the last traces of something twisting her face, a hate so vicious that she was grotesque,
unrecognisable...
No, thought Celia, awareness tugging at her like a toothache. I know that expression – I've seen it before.
"Are you okay?" she said, uncertain.
Breathing hard, Sunny shook her fingers. "Static shock," she said blithely.
Like hell. But Celia let it go, for now.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the pod boys skirt right to the other side of the hall to go past. Sunny's expression didn't change, but her hands were whiteknuckled on her
books.
Celia opened her mouth to say something comforting, and staggered as Ness hipchecked her out of the way. Suddenly her vision was full of caramelgold hair and immaculately
tailored legs. The gossip girls had swooped.
"You must be the new girl," chirped Ness, slinging a friendly arm through Sunny's. "I love that top, where did you get it?"
"It's Sunny, isn't it?" said Kirsty Ausner, who had the whiteblond hair of a Viking. Celia often suspected that if the school had allowed it, her long plait would have spikes attached
to the end. No one got in the way when Kirsty was charging down the field brandishing a hockey stick. "Where are you from? Your accent's so cute. All the boys are going mad over
it."
"A bit of everywhere," stammered Sunny, as they cooed over her clothes, her bag, her jewellery. "I was born in Dehli, but my parents travelled a lot. We lived in England and
France and Italy"
"Oh my god!" squeaked Leanne Ducharme, who was five foot nothing teetering on four inch heels. "That must have been amazing, You have to tell us about it."
In an instant, Sunny was swept away on a sea of chatter. Slightly stunned, Celia watched them go. Part of her was miffed that Sunny didn't look back. Another part was glad that
someone had accepted her so easily and wholeheartedly, even if it was more to do with her sense of style than her sense of self.
The bell rang, and she was miles from her next class. With a groan, Celia hurried on alone.
"My favourite lab partner. Are you ready for another nine weeks of wild scientific fun?"
Celia grinned at the tall boy who nudged his books aside so she could drop her bag down. Will Ratner was a refreshing slice of normality in what was another strange day. "Only
with you."
She'd always liked his eyes, the warm brown of melted chocolate, which gleamed when he smiled, as he often did. "Smooth, Slone. I bet you say that to all the boys."
"Didn't know you were a gambling man," she said lightly.
A dimple popped in his cheek. "If I was, I'd lay odds on Lewis asking out your new friend before lunchtime. He is smitten."
She rolled her eyes. "Is that why he made that lame excuse to go to the secretary's office?"
"You know Lew. The early worm gets the bird." Will picked up the instructions and they began to lay out the experiment. "I think he figured he'd swoop in and rescue her from a pile
of paperwork." There was a quiver low in his voice, and when she glanced across, it was matched by the mischief in his eyes.
"How did that work out?"
"Well, seems like him, and Mike Stanislov, and your friend Finn all had the same idea. So they sat through an hour of awkward silence and passiveaggressive staring before Lew
cracked and left."
She choked down a giggle at the picture. "Poor Sunny. Friday should be interesting."
"You invited her?" Will groaned. "Oh god. That means I've got three more days of listening to Lewis plan the great seduction."
They delved into the experiment. Time ticked away as the Bunsen burner did mysterious things to mysterious substances. Across the room, Adrian Reynard managed to smash a
test tube. Murmurs rumbled on the air.
At last they were done, a little before most pairs. Celia put down her pen and flexed her aching hand. "I'm so out of practice writing."
"Who isn't?" said Will.
"Well, whoever defaced the lockers kept their hand in. Did you hear about that?"
Copying her notes, he sounded distracted. "I heard something. Grace and Nessa?"
"And me."
"What?" His head snapped up, those honest eyes wide and just a little fierce. "You? Why the hell would anyone do that to you?"
"Why would anyone do it to Grace or Ness?" she said rhetorically.
"I can think of a few reasons." He scrubbed a hand through dishevelled brown hair. "Cee, you don't see it, but...they're not the nicest people."
Privately, Celia didn't much like Grace, who still turned her nose up every time Phi walked past – who'd called her selfish for refusing to grant her a prophecy, even knowing every
glimpse into the future pared down Phi's life like a candle dissolving under the flame. And Ness...well, Ness had her clique and you were in, or you were gossip.
"Maybe someone thinks that about me too," she said.
"I don't think so," he muttered, then gave a shrug. For a few minutes
, they worked in silence, Celia taking notes while Will called out observations. Then he said, quietly, "What did
it say?"
"What?" It took a moment to realise. "Oh. Vamp tramp."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He sounded angry. And Celia felt oddly gratified, because it meant he didn't see her like Grace, like Ness. And it meant something else – even
after growing up in Ryars Valley, Will still didn't know about the Nightworld.
She was glad of it. Someone should see the stars in the darkness and not the shadows, because she wasn't able to anymore. Someone should see that splatter of graffiti and think
why and not who, because the why, the hate, the fear, was so obvious to her.
So she smiled, because then his eyes softened, and that roguish gleam was back. She smiled, and pretended it didn't matter because with Will, she could fool herself into thinking it
didn't.
"Nothing," she said. "Empty words."
"Okay, Slone. I'll believe it – today. But only because that's a hell of a smile."
Oh. Oh. "Are you flirting with me?"
His smile was slow as sunrise, filling up his eyes. "Hopefully. Will you go to Farrier's party with me on Friday?"
She paused, and the bell rang.
His face was a picture – and she knew the warm joy of being a girl with a power all her own, a sorceress even if her magic was in the tilt of her smile and the turn of her head. For
this one moment, this one boy, she who was so ordinary became extraordinary.
So Celia tipped him a wink, and said, "Hopefully."
"Darling!" Jo threw an arm around her shoulders as they headed to lunch. "Did I hear right? Do you have a date for Friday?"
"You heard right." Celia narrowed her eyes. "How did you hear?"
"Supernatural," said Jo, tapping her ear. "It's just part of the package. At last. I thought he'd never get round to it. Finn owes me twenty bucks."
"What? Will got his act together?" Finn joined them, frowning. "Unbelievable."
"Did everyone know?" said Celia, exasperated.
"Please," said Finn grumpily. "He's always had a thing for you. I can't believe you said yes, though. He's shifty."
"Finn, you think everyone with a Y chromosome is shifty."
"That's because they are. Know how I know? I have one. It's a curse." He sounded thoroughly morose.
